And Zeus Rent Them Apart for Fear
by mynameisqwerty
Summary: Octavia tries to get her brother out of a post-relationship slump with disastrous consequences.
1. Chapter 1

It was Roan nuzzling into the crook of Raven's neck that did it. They looked so bloody content cuddled up on the couch, Raven leaning into him as she fiddled with her latest project. Roan's chin was hooked over her shoulder, playing with her hair as he watched her hands, methodical yet aggressive, a small smile playing on his lips and a smirk playing on hers.

She wanted it. Badly. She wanted that - companionship. But Clarke had been perpetually single for longer than she cared to admit. She was pathetically alone and very horny. In a minute she had tinder up, swiping to her heart's content.

Wells' eyes followed her knowingly from the floor, glancing up from his political science paper for a brief moment, before grabbing the red pen from his mouth and scratching out whatever his third argument had been. Clarke studiously avoided the gaze, focusing hard on her next victim.

He was fairly cute, actually. His dark mop curled towards intense eyes, and he seemed more freckle than skin. The photo had caught him on the edge of a grin as if he was trying to be serious but someone - maybe the someone taking the picture - was trying, and succeeding, to make him laugh. It was a good look on him. Clarke wondered vaguely if he laughed in bed.

On impulse, she opened up his bio. It was fairly standard. Her eyes scanned over the usual boring crap to catch on the last sentence:

message me your favourite Roman Emperor

She didn't know how to describe the sound that escaped her but it made all three of her companions look up.

"What?" Raven demanded. Clarke just past the phone over by way of explanation and Raven held the screen up so Roan could see too. He scoffed.

"Tell him, Nero. Dude was badass."

"Wasn't he the guy that went mad and burned Christians alive as human candles?"

"Everyone's a critic."

Wells looked up again, "Try Elagabalus,"

"Who?"

"He was pretty cool, and he's got an interesting history, so it'll give you cred. I bet half the answers he gets is Caesar because that's the only one people think they know. There were actually a few Caesars, but Julius was the most famous."

"Geez Wells, where were you hiding all this you nerd?" Raven teased as she picked up her mini spanner again.

"Shut up," said Wells easily. "I'm taking Ancient Worlds as my extra credit this semester."

Clarke's fingers hovered over the phone. "How do you spell it?"

"E - L - A - G - A - B - A - L - U - S." He enunciated slowly.

"So what's this interesting history then?" said Clarke, as she put the phone back on the table and settled back into her comfy chair. Wells looked more than happy to set aside his essay and sat up to tell the story.

"Well, for one thing, we're pretty sure he was queer, probably trans. They had a male lover and married like five different women - one was a vestal virgin. He became emperor at 14 and just completely fucked with all the Roman religious traditions and sex taboos. He used to dress up in makeup and wigs and dresses - the whole nine yards - and go round the brothels, I think one of my textbooks actually referred to him as a harlot. And it was said he'd pay anything to a doctor who could get him - um," Wells paused and a deep blush crept across his dark face. "Um ... You know, lady bits." Wells pressed on as the others sniggered at his discomfort. "The kid was nuts. He used to play pranks on his guests and stuff. Like this one time he locked someone in a room with a lion, but it was declawed and had no teeth."

"Still would have done some damage," muttered Raven, scrubbing at a stubborn piece of grease as Roan burst out laughing.

"Yeah, he went a little crazy toward the end." Wells admitted. "It was super unstable in Rome at the time. He had a bunch of pressure on him from all sides and pretty much cracked. He got assassinated at 18. But it was a wild four years. He also invented the lottery and the whoopee cushion."

"Okay how have I not heard of this guy." said Clarke, leaning forward.

"Well, that's where that interesting history comes in. His whole reign was such a middle finger to Roman tradition they tried to erase him from history. Just never acknowledge his existence and burn all the records and stuff. But of course some people wrote about him. He became a bit of an antihero figure in the Renaissance and then got buried again when the old English white guys took over writing the history books."

"I take it back. Elagabalus is my favourite emperor." Roan unstuck his arm from behind Raven's back.

"Mine too." Raven agreed, setting down her work and snuggling back into Roan, grabbing his recently freed arm and tucking it back round herself.

Clarke looked back at her phone. He hadn't replied. Why would he have? She's barely given him three minutes. More frustrated than she'd like to admit, she grabbed her art folio from the table and put on a bright smile.

"Well, I'm off to bed, and by bed I mean sit in bed and try to get this damn thing somewhat presentable by morning. You lot can show yourselves out,"

She leaned over to pat Well's shoulder, who leaned into it softly, silent comradery as he turned back to his paper. She gave it a departing squeeze before walking over to the couch planted a deliberate and very wet kiss on Raven's forehead.

She winked at Roan as they fist-bumped above Raven's head, and couldn't suppress a giggle as she saw Raven rubbing at the salvia with a frown.

"Gross Clarke," Raven deadpanned.

"You know you love me,"

"Good luck for tomorrow!"

Raven called down the hall just in time before Clarke's door closed with a small click.

Octavia felt her insides squirm just a little when she saw the notification. In her heart of hearts, she knew that her plan was ... morally grey at best. But she also knew that it was imperative to get her brother out of the slump he was in and resolve was clear on her face as she opened up the app.

She squinted at the one-word message, trying to figure out how it was pronounced. She'd never seen it before but trusted the obscurity that baffled her would be exactly what piqued her brother's interest. She clicked the profile.

She was pretty cute, Octavia conceded, as she perused the various photos. The first two were pretty standard fare, a bikini shot complete with a big sun hat, a light little drape, and sunglasses. There was another of her tummy down on a big white bed, her giggle hidden in the sheets, blue eyes twinkling mischievously into the camera. Octavia smirked appreciatively at the perfect tease of it. It was impossible to tell for certain if she was actually naked. Pretty heavily implied, but impossible to tell. The last one, however, was a bit unexpected. It was almost like it didn't belong there. Taken from what looked like the doorway of a sunlit studio, the girl was painting a broad forest landscape, her back to the camera. She had a calm intensity, and Octavia left herself being drawn in before she shook herself. She turned back to the other photos, focusing on the girl's features. She couldn't remember the last time Bell had dated a blonde, pushing herself up from her own bed and making her way toward the door, but from what little she knew about her, this girl was right up his alley. She figured Bell would have posted the same kind of dumb, artsy pictures if he had a profile on a sex app.

She quietly pushed open the door to his bedroom. He was crouched over his laptop, his hands held in a kind of prayer against his face and cupping his mouth and nose as he stared blankly at the words before him.

She edged forward. The time had come. She squared her shoulders and tried to channel Indra and her unbreakable confidence.

"Hi Bell," she murmured.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke tried to compartmentalise, something she usually excelled at. Her friends had often told her off for her ability to remove herself so completely from the emotion of a situation. She was the one who had been able to cut Finn but keep Raven. She had been the one who was able to put all her hatred for that patronising professor "Dante" to one side and still manage to ace her second-year studio arts. She had been the one to stand up tall and walk with steady feet after her dad had died and her whole world fell apart.

So why was her phone burning a hole through her jeans?

"Calling! Earth to Clarke. Calling! Come in Clarke."

Clarke looked up with a start from her stagnant coffee. Jasper had a half smile playing on the corner of his lips, bobbing his head a little as he tried to get her attention. She, Jasper and Monty, Raven, Lincoln and Wells had all agreed to meet at The Dripship after the exams were over. It had become tradition over the years, but somehow, Clarke wasn't enjoying the celebrations as much as she usually did.

"Sorry. Daydreaming, I guess." She muttered, hoping to brush it off.

"Stressing about your folio more like." Monty berated. "I told you, out of sight out of mind. You've worked your butt off for _weeks_ and it looks great. You've handed it in. There's nothing more you can do. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the fact that we don't have to even think about doing anything else for three whole months."

"So, 420 blaze it?" she intoned dryly.

"Now Clarke, that would be illegal," Monty said, sounding hurt but winking as he chucked a few stray peanuts in his mouth. "I'd never ask you to do anything _illega_ l."

She smiled despite herself, turning away from the group to hide it. Her eyes caught on a mop of curly dark hair and her heart did a strange tattoo against her chest – but a moment later the head had turned to reveal a pretty Polynesian girl and she turned back to the group berating herself. _Stupid_.

Monty and Jasper were talking animatedly about some party Monty's ex was throwing. It amazed Clarke how Monty managed to make friends and stay friends with everyone he met. He didn't even seem to care that the new boyfriend would be there, seemed _excited_ to meet him. She wished she had that courage. Her eyes glazed over again and she had a vague feeling of Lincoln's eyes on her from across the booth. He tapped her foot knowingly.

Curse him and his uncanny empath powers.

She rolled her eyes. _It's nothing._  
His gaze was steady. _Bullshit_. Those were eyes were calling her out, plain as day.

He wouldn't stop, even when she broke eye contact, and when they all eventually split, he made a point of walking with her.

"Spill." He said, without preamble, and even though talking was the last thing she felt like doing, she appreciated his straight talking, no nonsense attitude. It would have been infinitely worse if he'd ask, "How are you?" or even worse, "What's going on?"

"It's nothing." She said, and raise her voice at his unbelieving look. "It's. Nothing. I just was expecting something to come through and it didn't, and that's that and that's fine and my brain won't let it go."

"A work thing?" he pushed. "An art thing?"

"No," she mumbled, studiously avoiding his gaze.

Silence.

"A sex thing," she mumbled, if possible even quieter, and worked so hard avoiding Lincoln's face that she felt her eyes bulge slightly even as she heard a snort escape him despite his best efforts.

"Ah well." And Clarke felt his whole body uncoiling tension besides her, glad it had been nothing worse. "Plenty fish in the sea and everything."

"Shut up," Clarke tried not to sound pathetic and punched Lincoln's arm to break the mood. "And quit throwing clichés at me! You're the General Arts major, at least make it ¬seem like your putting effort into this relationship. Tell me something original!"

He smiled and ruffled her hair playfully. "All right, how about: You're a wonderful person, Clarke, the person who rejected you probably wasn't even worth your time. Anyway. Someone, somewhere, is dying to eat the pussy that was so recently and carelessly flung aside, giving endless orgasms now and forever, amen. You just haven't met them yet. Was that better?"

"Very inspirational." she chuckled. "They'll put that one in your biography for sure."

It was a companionable silence after that. Clarke felt his steady presence calm against her as they hugged goodbye at the bottom of her building, warm and glad of his quiet, steady care. She loved Lincoln, despite how annoying he could be with his Zen, quiet, probing.

By the time she closed her door, however, there was a cold twist back in her stomach. Hating herself for it, she opened her phone.

Nothing.

Zip.

Nada.

No notification. No indication that he had so much as read her message. She had a mad desire to throw the phone across the room, angry at herself for getting worked up about some dumb fuckboy.

After working half-heartedly on her folio last night, she had given up both on her art – which was getting steadily worse by the minute – and on the hope that her phone would ever beep again. She had had to get herself off in the end, and went to bed satiated, but ultimately unsatisfied; dark eyes haunting her with what might have been.

She scowled at herself in the mirror. This was so dumb. A vague hook up with a stranger hadn't worked out, big deal. She went to look at his profile, just to prove how much she didn't care.

It wasn't there.

She stared at the little message that had replaced what had been their one-sided conversation.

this user has deactivated their account. maybe you'll meet them again in the big wide world ;P

 _Yeah, right._ Clarke thought. She flopped backward onto her bed, bouncing under the non-existent mattress. Phone still in her hand, she closed her eyes and told herself very firmly to go to sleep.

"You WHAT?"

"WELL, I HAD TO DO SOMETHING!"

They were shouting again. Octavia had tried to avoid the shouting. She really had. But Bellamy was a Blake, and she was a Blake, and the rest was inevitable really. Now she had his attention, standing up with a blazing look in his eyes that somehow managed to be angry, disappointed, baffled and tired all at the same time.

"O …"

But she interrupted him. "You've been moping around here for months. Staring vaguely off into space, pretending to write your papers, and don't think I haven't noticed the way you fondle the old books she used to get you."

"I – But – What? – I don't fondle …" he spluttered, but they both noticed his eyes glance at the battered old copy of the Iliad beside him.

Octavia sighed. "Look I know it sucks, it will probably always suck, but that doesn't mean you have to pine your life away for a girl you barely knew a few weeks!"

"And you think sex with strangers is some magic cure-all that will help me feel on top of the world again, do you?" He was angry again, sarcasm lacing his every syllable.

"It worked when you were in college…" she muttered, and Bellamy looked at her unbelievingly.

"I seem to remember you screaming at me through my door that if I brought one more girl home, you'd kick me so hard in the balls Lolo would feel it."

"AT LEAST YOU SMILED BACK THEN!" and suddenly she couldn't contain it. "AT LEAST YOU WERE HAPPY! You might have brought a different girl home every night Bell, but God, you made every one of them feel like they were the only girl on earth. It was sickening to watch how good that made you feel. You _were_ on top of the world back then, and maybe you were a stupid asshole alpha male of a prick but you didn't mope around like you do now. I'd bring back that womanising arsehole any day if it meant I never had to see …" and here she pointed vaguely at his entire being, struggling to find the right words "… this."

"I'm flattered," he said. But the emotionless monotone was worse than his anger. She hated it, and hated herself more for wanting a bigger reaction from him. From her over dramatic, ridiculous, absolutely infuriating older brother. "So you decided to put a profile up on tinder without my permission – because that's a great way to meet people – and pimp me out to the hottest girl you could find? Thanks, but no thanks. You can delete that profile and hopefully we can never talk about this again."

He had turned back to the computer. He was going to pretend to be reading again. Probably thinking about _her_. He might have been alone for all the notice he took of her. Octavia wasn't done. It wasn't like she'd done it without thinking of him. She'd even added the stupid question about the Roman Emperors to find someone suitably nerdy and now her brother wasn't even going to look at the girl she'd picked out. Well, she was going to have the last remark at least. She was going to get her brother back, yes, but right now she wanted nothing more than to hurt, to maim. To make him feel some semblance of what was tearing through her own heart.

"Gina would have hated to see you like this."

She whispered it vehemently, tears in her eyes, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear. She had the satisfaction of seeing his back tense, as she closed the door again with a firm snap.


End file.
